


I owe you pain

by coldflashwavebaby



Series: If the apocalypse comes, beep me [5]
Category: The Flash (TV 2014)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Buffy The Vampire Slayer Fusion, Canon-Typical Violence, F/M, M/M, Mentioned Legends, Plot, Protective Lisa Snart, emotionally constipated idiots
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-08-25
Updated: 2018-08-25
Packaged: 2019-07-02 05:26:58
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,507
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15789870
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/coldflashwavebaby/pseuds/coldflashwavebaby
Summary: “Zolomon needs this to complete his mission,” Oliver said, staring at the ax in front of them blankly. “He will use it to drain every potential Slayer and demon unworthy of his army until he’s powerful enough to face you. You have to keep it far away, Barry. It’s your duty.”Barry opened his mouth to reply, but a horrifying screech cut through the near silence of the cavern. Barry fell to his knees and covered his ears while scanning the area around him. He couldn’t see anyone, but he knew it was a warning.Black Siren knew where the weapon was, and she was coming for it.





	I owe you pain

**London, 1705-**

 

Michael grunted as his face collided with the cold, stone floor of the jail cell. The soldiers who brought him in laughed and jeered, calling him pathetic, drunkard criminal. Well, they weren’t wrong.

 

Ever since he watched his family get burnt alive, Michael’s life went on a downward slope that, if he were honest with himself, he couldn’t care less about. He set fires, got drunk, robbed people, and passed out in alleyways—not always in that order. Lucky for him, this time, he was only being arrested for drunkenness, and none of the men recognized him from any of his past misconducts.

 

The door slammed behind him, and the soldiers went on, leaving Michael to crawl to the back wall of the cell to pull himself to his feet. He settled for an upright sitting position, his back leaned against the wall

 

“What did you do?”

 

The voice startled him. In his sluggish state, he hadn’t noticed a figure lurking in the shadowed corner of the cell, watching him avidly. He grunted again. “What’s it to ya?”

 

The figure shrugged. “I’m a curious man. Besides, what else are we going to talk about, being trapped in here together?”

 

Michael would rather the man stay silent. When his inevitable hangover came on, he knew he’d want as little noise as possible. But, for some reason, he answered the man anyway. “Public drunkenness. Though, if they saw the fire I set a few blocks away from where they caught me, I’d be in here for a lot more.”

 

“Really?” The man asked, surprised. “Why is that?”

 

_ None of your damn business,  _ he wanted to say, but there was something…whispering to him. Something compelling him… “Locked some creep who tried to scam me out of our last heist payoff inside to burn with it. Good riddance.”

 

The man laughed, quiet and breathy, but for some reason, it sent a shiver up Michael’s spine. 

 

The man stepped out of the shadows, giving Michael his first real look at him. The man was… _ beautiful.  _ Really, there was no other word for him. If he were a woman, every man in Britain would trip over himself for marriage. Mick, who wasn’t one to give a shit about man or woman, no matter what the Church or anyone had to say about it, stared at him in awe and lust.

 

The man’s icy, blue eyes froze him in place as he glided across the cell to stand in front of Michael. “What’s your name?” He asked.

 

Michael’s breath caught in his throat as the man fell to his knees and practically crawled into his lap. “Mi…Michael. Michael Rory.”

 

He swallowed hard as the man gently grabbed his chin and began stroking his bottom lip with his thumb. “Michael…” He tested the name like it was a wine to taste and frowned. “You don’t look like a Michael. No…” A smirk grew on his face. “You’re a Mick. Mick Rory.  _ My  _ Mick Rory.”

The man leaned forward so that his lips brushed against the shell of his ear, and Michael— _ Mick— _ shuddered. “Would you like that, Mick? Would you like to be all mine?”

Mick found himself nodding frantically. He couldn’t help it—something about this man was intoxicating and irresistible. He wanted to give him everything.

The man let out that breathy laugh again. “Good.” Was all he said before the side of his neck started to burn. He couldn’t turn his head, but he knew that the man was biting him. He was one of the cursed children he’d heard about—a  _ vampire _ .

The man pulled away after about a minute, ripping open the top of his own shirt and using his nail to slice open the skin above his breast. Without even needing prompting, Mick lunged forward to suck the blood from the wound. The man’s hand clutched at the back of his head in encouragement, humming softly while Mick drank.

When Mick finally pulled back, the man pulled him in again, only this time to bring their lips together. They kissed, bit, sucked, attacked, moaned. It was the most satisfying experience Mick had ever had. They came apart finally, only enough that their foreheads were leaned together, and the man chuckled.

“My name’s Leonard.” He announced. “And the two of us are going to rule the world.”

 

\----------

 

**Central City, Now-**

 

Mick loved to drink when he was alive, and it was something he refused to stop doing when he died. The burn was amazing, and the taste...well, it wasn’t any worse than blood, that was for sure. 

 

It’s one of the reasons he’d agreed to help Darlene, a demon, at her bar. Another reason was that maybe, just maybe, he wasn’t as big and tough as he used to be, and Darlene needed help. 

 

Maybe. 

 

It was last call when the door swung open, and heels clunked across the sticky, wooden floor. Mick sighed--this was a long time coming. 

 

“Hey, Lis.”

 

He didn’t even have to look up. He’d known Lisa almost as long as he’d known Len. She was like his own little sister, which is why he’d avoided her since he came back into town. He couldn’t face her knowing that Lenny was gone. 

 

She took the stool across from him. “Got any animal blood back there? I’m parched.”

 

He nodded and stooped down to the mini-fridge under the bar. He chose the best and poured her a glass. Anything for Lisa. 

 

“Heard you’re on Team Slayer now,” he muttered, sliding it to her. Lisa didn’t respond, instead taking a long drink from the glass. “I’m not trying to kill him anymore if that’s what you’re here about.”

 

“No, instead you’re fucking him. I can smell you all over him, even if no one else has figured it out.” Lisa raised an eyebrow, challenging him to deny it, but Mick had no plans to. 

 

He wasn’t ashamed to be fucking the Slayer. Damn, it was one of the best things that’d ever happened. Since their fight-turned-sex in his apartment the week before, Barry Allen had been back three times. Each time he denied wanting sex, but every time, they ended up naked and gasping for breath. He didn’t think he’d find anyone that could take and give it like he did--even with Leonard he had to tone it down a bit sometimes--but the Slayer was something else. He fucked like it was a fight. He bit, clawed, scratched, pushed, threw him around, until they were both bruised and worn down. 

 

He smirked. “Yup. What about it?”

 

Lisa rolled her eyes. “What  _ is it  _ with you two? Why did you and Lenny always go after the same people? First, there was that demon...girl…”

 

“Sara. She was wild.”

 

“...then that twink witch, Robert…”

 

“Raymond.”

 

“Whatever. Now the Slayer? I mean, for fuck’s sake.”

 

Mick shrugged. “What can I say? Kid’s got it.” 

 

Lisa stared at him for a second before shaking her head. “Look, I love you like a brother. I don’t want you to end up with a stake in your heart--metaphorically or otherwise.”

 

She was acting like he was in love or something. Sure, the kid was a good lay, but Mick was a soulless vamp. It was impossible to fall in love without a soul. It’s why Leonard hated the Slayer after he lost his. He didn’t have the ability to love anymore, so it was replaced by anger and loathing. 

 

He shook his head. “Got nothing to worry about, Lis. There’s a strict ‘no-murdering-in-the-sack’ rule. And if he kills me outside of this, it’s fair game.”

 

Lisa frowned, looking at him like he’d just lost his mind. “Mick, hon, I hate to break it to you, but you become attached. All the time. You let Lenny turn you after knowing him for less than ten seconds and then hung around him for centuries. I don’t want you doing the same to the Slayer when you’re both just using each other to fill some weird hole Lenny left behind.” 

 

Without saying another word, she pulled a twenty out of her pocket and slapped it on the bar top. “Just think about it, alright?”

 

With that, she strolled out of the bar, leaving Mick with something he was definitely going to ignore. 

 

\----------

 

Barry wasn’t near as tired as he had been. Ever since he started...whatever he’d started with Mick, those nights when he dozed off from exhaustion in the vamp’s bed were some of the best night’s sleep he had. Maybe it’s because Black Siren was giving him a break. 

 

But, that didn’t make sense--she was trying to wear him down. 

 

It had to be because Mick was there, giving him something else to think about besides the horrors of the Slayer. He didn’t bring up Barry’s monstrous qualities again after that first time, but Barry knew on some level that he hadn’t been wrong. There was something dark lurking under Barry’s skin, something that he could either fight or embrace. Barry wasn’t sure which he would choose, yet, but admitting it was a good step in the right direction. 

 

The more time he spent with Mick, the less vicious and monstrous he seemed. Once, he was woken up by crying-- _ actual crying _ . Mick was curled up, quietly sobbing in his sleep. Barry wondered what could make someone like him cry. His life before vampirism? Losing Len? Some other life-changing event that Barry didn’t even know about? 

He didn’t ask Mick afterward. He did run his fingers down the vampire’s shoulder as he slept, though, humming a song that Joe would sing whenever Barry had nightmares growing up. 

 

For the first time in a long time, he was smiling genuine smiles. He wasn’t cured of anything, but just seeing that someone else was just as messed up as you could sometimes be a remedy all it’s own. Maybe that’s why Mick liked him. 

 

Of course, it all had to come crashing down for him sooner or later. His good mood couldn’t last, and he couldn’t keep his Slayer duties from bringing him down. 

 

It was one night when he was home asleep. Instead of the dreamless nights he’d started adjusting too, he saw a cave. 

 

No, not a cave...a tunnel. It was the sewers. He walked through them, weaponless and alone, until he saw a figure standing at the mouth of a large cavern. 

 

He frowned. The figure seemed familiar--muscular, blonde, armed with a bow and arrow. When he turned, Barry somehow knew that this was Oliver Queen, the Slayer before him. 

 

“What’s going on?” Barry asked. 

 

Oliver didn’t reply.

 

“Why are you here?” he tried again. “Is there something you need to tell me?”

 

Oliver turned back towards the cavern and pointed ahead. Barry approached slowly, following Oliver’s finger to a rock in the center of the cavern. Stuck inside, like Excalibur itself, was an ax of some kind. Barry could feel the power radiating off of it, begging to be freed. 

 

Barry jumped when a hand fell to his shoulder. “Zolomon needs this to complete his mission,” Oliver said, staring at the ax in front of them blankly. “He will use it to drain every potential Slayer and demon unworthy of his army until he’s powerful enough to face you. You have to keep it far away, Barry. It’s your duty.”

 

Barry opened his mouth to reply, but a horrifying screech cut through the near silence of the cavern. Barry fell to his knees and covered his ears while scanning the area around him. He couldn’t see anyone, but he knew it was a warning. 

 

Black Siren knew where the weapon was, and she was coming for it.

 

\----------

 

He knew where the weapon was. It was almost instinctive, calling to him. But it was also on the other side of town...meaning he needed a ride. 

 

His first thought was Iris, but he quickly threw that idea out. Iris would want to know what he was doing, why he didn’t have back-up. Same with Caitlin. 

 

Joe would want to charge in with him, guns blazing, and would end up getting himself killed. 

 

He should’ve called Jay. He was his Watcher, after all. Instead, he found himself calling someone else--someone he swore he’d leave alone. 

 

When the black van pulled up outside, Barry climbed out of his bedroom window and ran for it before Wally or Iris could see. Joe was at work, so at least he didn’t need to worry about that. 

 

He climbed into the front seat and sighed. “Hey, Dr. Wells.”

 

Wells smiled. “It was nice to hear from you, Allen.”

 

They headed out towards the edge of town, where the sewer met the river. Barry stayed silent the entire ride, feeling too awkward, too guilty, and too ashamed to speak. When they finally made it to the river, Wells quickly hit the door lock button. 

 

Barry glared. “Let me out.”

 

“Not until you talk to me, Barry,” he said. “I may not be your Watcher anymore, but I hope you still see me as your friend. I won’t try to stop whatever it is you’re doing, but I would like some reassurance that I didn’t just drive you to your death.”

 

Barry sighed. This is what he’d wanted to avoid. He should’ve walked. “I’m fine. There’s a weapon that I need to get to defeat some guy called Zolomon, and I have to get it before this other demon does. It’s nothing I haven’t dealt with before.”

 

He tried to open the door again, but it remained locked. Barry groaned. “What more do you want?”

 

He turned back to Wells, only to have every bit of anger drain from him. His ex-Watcher looked old, drained, and worn to the bone. Barry had been so concerned with his own emotional issues, he hadn’t once thought about Wells and what he had to be going through. 

 

“I’m sorry, Barry,” he said quietly. “I’m sorry that I’ve let you down. That I allowed my...my feelings towards Miss Snow to get in the way of my duties. You’re right to be angry at me.”

 

Barry frowned. “Dr. Wells, I’m not mad at you. I thought  _ you  _ were mad at  _ me.  _ The only reason any of this happened was because of me. If I’d been a better Slayer or if I hadn’t slept with Len, none of that would’ve happened. And, as for Caitlin, you and Cisco saved her life, saved her  _ soul _ . I...I couldn’t do anything. I’m grateful for what you did.”

 

“My job was to protect you,” Wells argued. “Instead of going with you to face off with Leonard, I stayed behind to make sure  Caitlin was okay.”

 

“Dr. Wells, I don’t care that you like Caitlin. She’s out of high school and old enough to make her own decisions. I do care that you chose to protect her over me--because it was the  _ right decision. _ Leonard could’ve been trying to fool us again, and Caitlin was our only chance. If the Watcher’s Council wants to fire you for making the  _ smart  _ choice, that’s on them, not you.”

 

A small smile pulled at the corner of Wells’ mouth. “Why’d you call me, anyway? Don’t you have some shiny, new Watcher you could’ve called?”

 

Barry shrugged. “I like Jay okay, but I just...I don’t trust him like I trust you.”

 

Wells raised an eyebrow. “Jay Garrick is your new Watcher?”

 

Barry nodded. 

 

“He’s good. I trained with him. He’s one of those Watchers that will watch your back.”

 

“Good to know.”

 

They fell into silence for a few seconds,l until Wells finally reached over to unlock the door. “Do you need me to wait for you?”

 

Barry shook his head. “I’ll be okay.” Without another word, he opened the door and jumped out of the van.

  
  


The sewers were dark and damp, but surprisingly not as smelly as he’d expected. He crept through the tunnels, following the path Oliver had taken in his dream. The way was empty and quiet, save for the sound of dripping water behind him. He drew his military knife from the waistband of his pants. There was something wrong--he could feel it. 

 

He stepped into the cavern and saw the ax. It was shiny with a bright red handle, like it hadn’t been locked away for decades. What Black Siren said had to be true then--it was magical. He hurried towards it, only to be knocked back off his feet by a loud screech. He hit the wall with a loud crack. 

 

“Thought you’d never show up, Slayer,” Black Siren gloated, striding towards him from the shadows.  _ Damn, how had he missed her? _ “I’ve been waiting here for hours. I knew you would come for the weapon, but my master needs it.” 

 

She grabbed him by the hair and kicked her heeled boot into his face. He cursed--that was gonna leave a mark. Before she could do it again, he grabbed her by the wrist and pulled down as hard as he could. If she were human, the bone would’ve snapped in two. Being a demon, she was just dragged to the floor beside him. 

 

He swung his knife at her, but Black Siren had recovered just enough to block it. The knife fell from his hand and skidded across the floor, far from his reach. Siren grabbed him around the neck, choking him. His eyes went to the ax. It was only a few feet away. If he could get away from Siren long enough…

 

He suddenly remembered a fight Iris got into in third grade. Ashley Holden was a bitchy fourth grader who bullied Iris relentlessly, until one day, she decided that she was going to try and shove Iris’ face in a trash can. Barry tried to help but, turned out, Iris didn’t need it. The second the girl grabbed her from behind, she fought dirty. 

 

Barry reached back and grabbed a handful of Black Siren’s hair, twisted his hand in it, and pulled with all his Slayer strength while biting the arm around his neck as hard as he could. 

 

She didn’t expect that. 

 

Siren screamed and let go, giving Barry the chance to run for the ax. The second his fingers touched the handle, he knew Oliver was right--the ax held a power like nothing he’d ever felt. When he pulled it from the stone, he felt stronger and more powerful than he’d ever felt before. He turned to Siren, ready to finish it, but she was standing in the doorway, smirking. 

 

“Thank you, Slayer,” a dark voice hissed behind him. “I never would’ve been able to claim the ax on my own, since the Watcher’s Council cursed it so only a Slayer could free it.”

 

Barry tensed. He’d never heard the voice before, but there was no doubt who was in the cavern with him, who had tricked him into coming down there and getting the weapon he needed.

 

He turned. Zolomon was one ugly SOB. If he was ever human, those days were long gone. His skin was charcoal black, rough as leather. His eyes were lightning blue. There were two sets of horns on his head from his experiments in the demonic. But most importantly, clutched in his clawed hand, was Wells. 

 

Barry’s heart stopped. Zolomon had one claw at Wells’ throat, running it along the skin like he couldn’t decide where to cut. “Please, don’t…”

 

The words just fell from Barry’s lips, but he couldn’t lose Wells. He’d lost so much--he couldn’t take it if his friend and mentor was murdered in front of him. 

 

“Give me the weapon,” Zolomon replied, “and I promise you he will leave here unharmed.”

 

Wells shook his head. “Barry, don’t. You don’t know what’s at stake--Zolomon will destroy everything. Let him kill me. Use the ax and take him down!”

 

Zolomon chuckled, low and dark. The sound made Barry’s skin crawl. “Any other Slayer would. What is a Watcher but replaceable? Then again, this isn’t your Watcher, yet you called for him. Yet he followed you down here, ready to help at a moment’s notice. What will you chose, Barry Allen?”

 

Barry’s grip tightened on the ax. He could’ve just killed Zolomon, right then. All the darkness he would cause, the horrors he would unleash...none of it would happen. All he had to do was sacrifice Wells. Let Zolomon kill one of his closest friends. 

 

There really wasn’t a choice for Barry. 

 

He sat the ax on the ground and kicked it towards Zolomon. The demonic man threw Wells towards Barry and picked up the weapon gleefully. 

 

“Barry,” Wells gasped, “what have you done?”

 

“What you would’ve for me,” he answered honestly. Suddenly, a scream from Black Siren threw them both to the floor. Wells tumbled away, but Zolomon grabbed Barry by the front of his shirt and dragged him to his feet.

 

“I promised that Wells would leave unharmed,” he hissed. “I never said you would, Slayer.”    
  


He backhanded Barry with the hand holding the ax, knocking him back on the ground. Barry pushed himself back onto his feet and tried to fight back, but with the ax, Zolomon was too strong. He got Barry with the blunt side of the ax, then kicked him in the stomach, finally, when he was down, Zolomon raised the ax above his head. 

 

“With this blow, I absorb the power of the Slayer!”

 

Barry watched, helpless, as the ax came down. Zolomon was going to kill him. He was going to use whatever power he would gain and kill innocents. Then, a voice whispered in his head. A gruff, familiar voice.

 

_ “One day, that beast inside’a you is the only thing that’s gonna keep you alive…” _

 

He never expected to take advice from Mick. But, as soon as the ax was close enough, Barry closed his eyes, reached out...and grabbed it by the blade. He knew that it was slicing through his palms, that blood was pouring down his arms, but when he looked up, he was satisfied to see something familiar in Zolomon’s eyes, something every vamp had right before he slayed them-- _ fear.  _

 

Barry kicked at Zolomon’s knee, smiling when it cracked under his strength. He pulled the ax from Zolomon’s hands and, using his free hand, punched the asshole right in the face. Zolomon fell back, and Barry knew he could win. 

 

Until Black Siren rushed to his side and screamed. Barry fell to the ground again, his head hitting the stone floor with a sickening crack. 

 

_ “All it takes is one lucky shot, one bad day, and then one of us is standing over you, questioning how long they want to draw out killing you…” _

 

The room was spinning. There was darkness around the edge of his eyes. He could hear shouting--was it Wells? He couldn’t tell anymore. Then, everything went black. 

 

\----------

 

He wasn’t dead. That was a plus. Either he’d injured Zolomon enough that he’d forced him to retreat, or he was just playing with them. It didn’t matter, though. He could’ve killed Zolomon, but he failed. The one time he could’ve done something right. He kept his eyes closed, knowing that when he opened them, he’d have to face it all again. He shifted against the soft surface under him--was he in his bed?--and groaned in pain. 

 

A hand stroked the hair back off his forehead. “Shhhh, it’s okay, son. I got you.”

Barry relaxed against the covers, opening his eyes to see Joe sitting beside him on the bed. His foster father was watching him worriedly. 

 

He smiled blankly at him. “What happened?”

“Wells brought you home,” Joe explained. Barry didn’t miss the underlying anger in his tone. “We called Caitlin. She said that you have two broken ribs and a concussion, on top that shiner. Also said you were lucky—one of those ribs could’ve punctured a lung.”

Barry sighed and turned his head away from Joe’s angry glare. He didn’t need more guilt. The amount he’d already shouldered was enough.

“Bare, we’re not doing this anymore.”

That got his attention. He quickly turned back to Joe. He couldn’t mean that he was going to try and stop him from being the Slayer? Joe knew better than anyone the difference Barry made fighting vamps and demons.

His foster father shook his head. “Not the Slayer. This guilt complex you’ve developed since you killed Snart.”

Barry squeezed his eyes closed. “You don’t understand, Joe.”

“Understand what, Barry? You said it yourself before you went to take him down—he wasn’t him anymore. He’d become a monster.”

“But he wasn’t.” A tear—the first tear he’d allowed himself to shed for Len—dripped down his cheek. “Joe, he was Len again when I killed him. The curse worked.”

The room went silent. When he finally forced himself to open his eyes, he expected to see judgment of some kind from Joe—towards him, towards Len…but instead, there was sympathy and sadness.

Barry swallowed. He needed to finish, or he’d never be able to find the courage to say the words again. “I was fighting him, and I was winning. I had my sword raised, ready to kill him, but then… _ something  _ came over him. He started tearing up, and I knew…I  _ knew _ he was Len again. His soul was back. I think…I think he only remembered bits and pieces of everything, but he knew that he’d done something horrible. So, I ran over and took him in my arms. I thought that we’d gotten a break. I thought that it was over.”

He wiped away his tears. “But then, the portal opened behind him. I knew there was only one way to stop it. So, I kissed him, told him how much I loved him, and I ran him through with my sword.’

 

“The worse part wasn’t even the surprised look on his face when he fell back into the portal. It was the relief in his eyes when he realized what I’d done. The forgiveness. Because I’d done what he always told me I would have to…what I swore I wouldn’t.”

He clenched his fists. When had his hands started shaking? When had breathing become the hardest thing he could do? Joe grabbed his fist to stop the tremors, and before Barry knew what was happening, he was pulled into a tight hug. “I’m sorry, Bare. I’m sorry you had to go through that.”

A broken sob fell from his lips. He hadn’t told anyone the truth. It felt good—he still felt rotten, but at least someone was sharing his weight. Joe pulled back. “I am sorry about what went down, but that doesn’t change that this suicide mission you’ve put yourself on has got to end.”

Barry shook his head. “But—”

“No buts.” Joe’s grip tightened a bit on his hand. “Do you want me to say that it wasn’t your fault? I can’t—you unleashed Leonard on Central City, and you killed him. But do you think that everything that has happened has  _ only  _ been your fault? That Ronnie’s death, or Dante’s death, or Caitlin’s magic, or Wells getting fired is on you? Guess what—they all made choices that led them there. Even Snart. As much as I hate thinking about what had to go down for what happened to have happened, it took both of you to do it, and you both paid the consequences for it. None of this is solely on you.”

“Cisco—”

“Cisco is hurting,” Joe interrupted. “He is grieving, and he will get better and realize that you did what you had to do. Answer me honestly. Do you think that any of them—Cisco, Wells, Caitlin—would trade your life for the things they lost? Do you think Len would have?”

Barry was speechless.

“No. Because they love you, Barry. Just like Iris and I love you. And if you were to die…” Joe choked over the word, and suddenly, Barry saw just how his actions had affected his foster father. Joe loved him, Iris, and Wally more than anything in the world. How had he never considered them when he threw himself into dangerous situations?

“If you were to die, Barry,” he finished, “I would just…”

Barry threw his arms around Joe again. This time, his foster father sobbed into his shoulder. He was right—Barry needed to stop. What Mick said was true—he had something to live for.

 

“What happened to Wells?” he asked, hoping to change the subject. “Is he okay?”

 

Joe nodded. “Yeah. He said something about losing an ax--said that ‘Black Siren’ grabbed it right after she knocked you out--but he’s not injured.”

 

Barry closed his eyes and sighed. One step forward, two steps back. Now, Zolomon had the weapon he wanted and could start whatever plan he had for ‘ultimate power’. “That means that Zolomon has it.”

 

Joe tensed beside him. “ _ Zolomon? _ Like, ancient cult leader immortal Zolomon? Hunter Zolomon?”

 

Barry’s eyes flew open. “Joe...how do you know about Hunter Zolomon?” The Watcher’s Council didn’t even know about Hunter Zolomon. How did  _ Joe _ ? 

 

There was a twinge of guilt behind the terror in Joe’s eyes. “There’s something you need to know about me, Bare…”

 

\----------

 

“You’re a  _ WATCHER _ ?” 

 

Iris, Barry, Caitlin, Wells, and Cisco were gathered on the West couch, various expressions of shock and confusion on their faces. Well, at least Barry and Iris weren’t the last to know something for once. 

 

Joe nodded. “Was a Watcher, yes. I stopped years ago, moved and changed my name. It was right after Iris was born.” 

 

He turned to his daughter. “Your mother was the Slayer before Oliver Queen. I was her Watcher for a long time.”

 

Wells’ eyebrows shot up. “You’re  _ Desmond Powell _ ? The Watcher for Francine Williams? You’re a legend among the Watchers, Joe.”

 

Joe just shrugged, like none of that mattered. To him, it probably didn’t. “When I found out Francine was pregnant, I begged her to stop being the Slayer. She did for the nine months she was pregnant, but she wouldn’t give it up indefinitely. I knew that if evil found out about you, they wouldn’t rest until they had you to use over her. So, I took you away, changed our names, and came to live as a cop.”

 

Cisco whistled low. “Damn, that’s messed up.”

 

“How do you know about Zolomon?” Barry asked.

 

Joe sighed. “Remember when I told you about Iris’ fourth birthday party?”

 

Barry nodded. 

 

“I heard from her one time after that. She came to me about ten years ago because she’d heard whispers about something called Zolomon. She said he was dangerous and needed to be stopped. Begged me to help. I told her no.”

 

Joe shook his head. “One week later, she was dead and the son I never knew I had was put with her parents. I spent the next year or two trying to find out as much about Zolomon as I could, but he’s like a ghost. Few people have heard about him, and it’s hard to tell what’s true and what’s exaggerated. I do know that no one that’s ever gone against him has lived to talk about it.”

 

“That isn’t true,” Barry cut in. “Mick Rory and Leonard faced him and got away once.”

 

Everyone turned to him, eyes wide. “How the hell do you know that?” Cisco asked, breaking the silence that had been hanging over them for months.

 

_ Shit. _ Barry shrugged, playing it nonchalant. “Mick Rory has a big ass mouth and some vamps I questioned overheard it.”

 

Everyone seemed to accept this except Iris, who eyed him suspiciously. 

 

“Anyway,” Joe continued, “Barry’s the only one  _ I  _ know of that beat Zolomon in a fight. Meaning he’s going to come after us harder.”

 

Wells rose from his seat. “Joe, do you know what Zolomon’s after? In all your research, is there anything that points to what it could be?”

 

Joe crossed his arms and nodded. “Zolomon wants power. That ax he got today absorbs power from whoever is cut down with it. It used to be that he needed spells and rituals to absorb the energy, but the ax bypasses all that. With it, he can pull power from something greater than demons and vampires. He can drain the power from unCalled Slayers.”

 

It was like the room dropped twenty degrees. Barry tried to picture Zolomon with that much power, the strength of tens, if not hundreds, of potential Slayers. “Don’t the Watchers have a list of those? What if he gets his hands on it?”

 

With Black Siren’s ability to get into people’s heads, it was possible.

 

“It’s worse.” Joe hung his head. “Before she died, Francine told me something. She saw the list--Wally’s name is on it.”


End file.
